


Mr. Green in the Hall with the Revolver

by BonitaBreezy



Category: Clue (1985), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: -jake peralta voice- guess who just got murdered???, Clue AU, HarriscoFest2018, I wrote this whole thing in like eight hours, I'M A SHAM, M/M, Murder Mystery, Non-Graphic Violence, a clumsy attempt that follows the movie way too closely, but read it any way and tell me I'm good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 23:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15695943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonitaBreezy/pseuds/BonitaBreezy
Summary: In the fall of 1894, six guests arrive at a dinner party not knowing what to expect.  What they get is a a murder mystery which must be solved before they all fall victim.Written for HarriscoFest2018! Prompt: 1890s Millionaire!Harry, Cisco footman, dinner party murder mystery.





	Mr. Green in the Hall with the Revolver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Android_And_Ale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Android_And_Ale/gifts).



> I know the tags made me sound super confident about this fic and the quality lmfao but I wouldn't post it if I thought it was total crap so thanks for the vote of confidence! Enjoy! Special thanks to Android_and_Ale for the idea and also for all the great headcanoning!

Cisco tucked his watch back into the pocket of his waist coat and then straightened his jacket nervously. The gilded buttons caught under his smoothing motion, and he dropped his hands quickly, afraid to pull one loose. Eddie would not be happy if he had to resew a button less than an hour before dinner. 

And Cisco couldn’t afford to have him at anything less than his best, tonight. It was all too important. It had to go off without a hitch. Anything else would be...messy. 

Cisco took a deep breath and steeled himself.  He tugged his bow tie once and then headed into the lounge where Eddie was arranging the drink cart and bobbing his head along to the music drifting from the gramophone. 

“Everything ready for tonight?” Cisco asked, hoping he sounded less nervous than he felt. He had to be confident, in control.  Ready for anything.

“Almost,” Eddie said, angling a bottle of brandy just so. 

“Well,” Cisco said, a little gruffly. “Make sure that it is.” 

He left the room quickly, heading off towards the kitchen where the cook was chopping vegetables at a quick pace. Cisco watched, a little in awe that he could move so fast and not cut his fingers on the edge of the large, sharp knife. 

“How goes it, Hunter?” Cisco asked. 

“Fine,” he grunted, verbose as ever. 

“Dinner begins in less than an hour,” Cisco reminded him, and was met with a glare for his troubles. 

Cisco glared back, but excused himself.  It wouldn’t do to upset the cook before dinner was ready, after all.  He doubted he’d be able to produce a satisfactory meal on his own. He brought himself back out into the entrance hall and looked around.  Everything was in place. Everything was ready. It was all going to go just as planned.

* * *

 

The manor that loomed in front of them was lit up with electric lights, but it still looked dark and foreboding in the midst of the heavy rain storm.  A young couple peered through the window of their carriage and up at the house with trepidation.

“Perhaps we should leave,” the woman suggested.

“Perhaps,” the man responded. “But then we’ll never know what the letter meant.”

She tore her eyes away from the house and looked to her husband.  He looked back, calmly, unjudging, and she sighed.

“We should find out,” she admitted.

“It will be fine, my dear,” he promised, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Now come on.”

Though the driver came around with an umbrella and lead them to the door, the rain was relentless and they were a little worse for wear by the time that they pressed the brass doorbell.  The driver retreated back to the carriage as the chimes rang in four ascending notes, and by the time the door was opening, he their carriage was gone.

“Ah,” said the man behind the door.

He was smartly dressed in a tuxedo, with a silver pocket watch chain hanging out of his waistcoat pocket and shiny leather shoes.  Everything about him looked pressed and proper, save for the long black hair he had pulled back into a severe braid to keep it off his face.

“Mr. and Mrs. Flash,” he said. “Welcome.”

“Flash…?” the man started, confused, but he was quickly cut off.

“If you recall, in the letter you received you were informed that the evening would be conducted anonymously,” their host interrupted. “Tonight you will be known only as Mr. and Mrs. Flash.”

“All right, then,” Mrs. Flash said briskly, allowing him to take her top coat. “And what may we call our host?”

“You may call him Dr. Wells,” the man said.

“So who are you, if not Dr. Wells?” Mr. Flash asked, a little suspiciously.

“I am Dr. Wells’ butler,” he said. “Cisco, if it pleases you.”

He started shepherding them out of the hall and through a door off to the left.  The room screamed of wealth and luxury, all dark woods and deep colors. The floral carpet was plush under their feet, and the rococo sofas and chairs were upholstered in deep green silk.  Of course, the main draw of the room was the ornate Louis XV marble fireplace set against one wall, lit with a roaring fire.

“Take a seat, if you like,” Cisco said as the door bell began chiming in the hall again. “All of the guests should be assembled within the half hour.”

He disappeared out of the room again, and Mr. and Mrs. Flash exchanged a look.  Certainly, something was strange was afoot.

* * *

 

The man glanced around the massive stone veranda, noting the chain leashes off to the side.  The leashes were currently sans dogs, but they looked sturdy and intimidating. He swallowed and focused his attention back on the door, which was swinging open to reveal a young man in a neatly pressed tuxedo.  He looked tidy and professional, but the braid he wore his long hair in indicated that perhaps he was less strict when left to his own devices. 

“Mr. Gideon,” he said, using the name that had been included in the letter that begged his appearance. “Excellent of you to come.”

He stepped back and gestured for Mr. Gideon to enter with a sweeping hand, and then moved to take his coat. “We still have a few guests we’re waiting on, so I’ll have you wait in the lounge until it is time for dinner.”

Mr. Gideon only nodded, looking around the entrance hall, and then the lounge, to see what he could see.  It all seemed fairly innocuous, and he took a seat on the green chair across from a young couple who were seated a little too closely together for propriety.

“Mr. Gideon, may I present Mr. and Mrs. Flash,” he said. “Mr. and Mrs. Flash, Mr. Gideon.”

“Charmed,” Mr. Gideon said, disinterested. The couple returned the sentiment awkwardly, and the room fell into silence. 

* * *

 

“Stop the carriage!” She called up to her driver, eyes focused on the carriage in the side of the road. It had become stuck in the mud, and try as they might, the horses and driver were having no luck getting it out. 

She released the latch on the window and lowered it, wrinkling her nose as the pelting rain soaked the sleeve of her coat. 

“Is everything all right?” She called into the night, though it was obviously not. 

“My carriage is stuck,” a pretty young woman in a gorgeous woolen coat complained. “I’m on my way to a dinner party and…”

“At the Wells Manor?” She asked, leaning away from the open window to try and avoid the rain. 

“Just the same,” the girl said. 

“It appears that we’re attending the same function,” she said, pushing the door open. “Ride with me and I’ll send the driver back to help free your carriage.” 

“I thank you,” she said, climbing into the carriage.

The hem of her skirts were wet and mud spattered, but besides that she looked every inch a pampered high class girl. It was odd that she’d be attending a dinner party all alone. But the girl’s business was her own, and she wasn’t particularly interested in prying.

The manor atop the hill was well-lit, even through the pouring rain, and it didn’t take them long to arrive.  The door was answered by a young man whose smile faltered when he saw them. 

“Miss Quick, Professor Frost,” he said. “I wasn’t aware you were acquainted.” 

“We aren’t,” Professor Frost said, handing him her wet coat. “It seems Miss Quick had some trouble with her carriage. I only gave her a ride.” 

“Your timing was fortuitous, then,” he said, hanging their coats in a nearby closet. “Allow me to escort you to the lounge.  We’re only waiting on two more guests…”

He was cut off by the sound of the doorbell chiming once more and he made his apologies and left them. 

There were three other people in the room; a fashionably dressed dark-skinned woman and her skinny husband who looked acutely uncomfortable, and an older man who looked so bored he may as well have been falling asleep where he sat. 

Professor Frost claimed a seat on the empty rococo sofa, and Miss Quick sat next to her. It seemed she’d picked up a shadow, which was fine. Professor Frost didn’t mind looking out for other women.

A moment later, the butler returned with another dark-skinned woman in a blue gown who eyed the room critically. She was introduced to them as Colonel Court, and she took the last seat on a green silk chair near the bored-looking man. 

“So…” Mrs. Flash spoke up. “What do you all do for work?” 

She paused then, seeming to realize that speaking about their work could reveal their identities, which they were not supposed to do.  She looked toward Colonel Court a little desperately.

“Surely your employment must not be a secret, since you have a title,” she said.

“I was a Colonel in the Army, once,” she allowed. “But some time has passed since then.”

“And Professor Frost?” Mrs. Flash pressed.

“I was once a professor,” Professor Frost informed her. “I’ve pursued higher interests since then.  I usually go by Dr. Frost these days, though I suppose our host didn’t want to share the glory.”

“Does anyone know our host?” Mr. Gideon spoke up, looking at each of them in turn, like he could glean the answer from their brains if he just stared hard enough. “I received an anonymous letter and my curiosity was too strong to deny.” 

There was a chorus of “no’s” around the room and they all looked at each other uncomfortably. Professor Frost narrowed her gaze, wondering how it was possible that a room full of strangers could be invited to dine by another stranger and all have the inclination to show up. 

“Well surely you must know him, Cisco,” Mr. Flash spoke up. “He is your employer.”

“Of course I know him,” Cisco said. “He is my employer.”

He offered no other explanation and the mood in the room shifted noticeably. He was the only one who seemed to have any idea what was going on, and they all seemed to be uncomfortably aware of it. 

“Well, what do you do for him?” Colonel Court pressed. 

“I’m the butler, ma’am. I buttle.”

This pronouncement was offered with a sarcastic smile, and Professor Frost was surprised to see Mr. Gideon huff a laugh. It was the first emotion she’d seen him show besides boredom. 

“Well, I find that I’m growing impatient with all this secrecy,” Colonel Court said testily. “I’m a very busy woman and I…”

She was interrupted by the sudden sound of a loud gong.  It surprised her so much that she jumped in her seat, her hands flying out in front of her as if to defend from an invisible assailant. 

“Excellent,” Cisco said cheerfully. “Dinner is ready.  If you’ll all follow me to the dining room.”

He didn’t wait for them to agree, just went out the door, leaving them to follow in his wake. Mr. Flash offered his wife his arm and lead her from the room, and the others followed suit.  Professor Frost playfully offered her arm to Miss Quick with a mocking smile, and Miss Quick giggled and took it. Colonel Court and Mr. Gideon looked at each other, shrugged, and linked arms.

The dining room was set with fine bone china and shining silver cutlery.  Despite the ultra-modern electric lights installed in every room of the house, the flowered centerpiece was framed on either side by heavy gilded candlesticks which held long white tapers.  Each place setting had a piece of card stock with each of their names written in perfect script. When they were all seated, the seat at the head of the table remained empty.

Despite this, the cook came out with a tureen of soup and began spooning it in to their bowls in turn.  Miss Quick made a happy little noise at the sight of the creamy oyster soup and immediately picked up her spoon.

“My favorite!” she informed the table at large.

“Shouldn’t we wait for our host?” the Colonel asked, and Miss Quick’s face colored slightly as she quickly set her spoon down.

“There’s no point in letting it get cold,” Cisco said cheerfully. “Dr. Wells will be along.”

“I really think we should wait,” Professor Frost insisted.

“Nonsense,” Cisco said. “Enjoy yourselves!”

Miss Quick seemed to need no more encouragement than that, as she quickly tucked in to the soup.

“Delicious!” she informed them all enthusiastically.

They all watched awkwardly for a long moment as she ate, and then followed suit.  It really was good soup, and it was nice to have a distraction to focus on so that they didn’t have to dwell on the awkward silence.  The room was silent but for the clinking of silverware against China and the occasional sound of Eddie refilling a drink. They were halfway through the second course--lamb with mint jelly--when the front door shut with a loud echo.

“It seems our host is here,” Cisco spoke up.  He moved from the corner where he had perched and headed back out into the hall.

“Does anyone have any idea what we’re all doing here?” Mr. Gideon asked, his voice pitched low.

“None,” Mrs. Flash said quickly, while Miss Quick nodded in agreement.

“I got a letter,” Professor Frost admitted, digging the folded page out of her clutch. 

“I also got a letter,” Miss Quick said.

“Well, what did it say?” Mr. Flash pressed.

Professor Frost unfolded the letter, glanced towards the doorway to the hall, and then read aloud, “It will be to your advantage to be present at the posted address on the twentieth of September because a Dr. Wells will grant a boon in reparation for a terrible tragedy.”

“I got the same letter,” Colonel Court said. 

“Well, what terrible tragedy?” Miss Quick asked.

“I think Dr. Wells has the answer to that,” Cisco spoke up.

They were standing in the doorway to the dining room, where a tall man with piercing blue eyes and a scowl on his face was surveying them all.

“What are they doing here?” he asked.

“Eating dinner,” Cisco responded tersely.

They all shifted uncomfortably. This was supposedly their host, but he seemed to have no idea that he’d find them in his home.  And Cisco, who had been pleasant and welcoming all evening suddenly seemed less than pleased.

“Huh,” Dr. Wells said, taking his seat at the head of the table.

Eddie set his plate down in front of him and he dug right in, not acknowledging any of them.  The assembled guests all look at each other, and away from each other, and toward Dr. Wells and back at each other, until finally Mr. Flash snapped.

“I demand to know why we’ve all been brought here!” he exclaimed. “This is unusual and unnerving and I don’t take kindly to being led about…”

“You might find it interesting,” Dr. Wells spoke up. “To know that Cisco has locked us in.”

There was a long moment of stunned silence, and then Colonel Court and Mr. Gideon launched themselves out of their seats and began demanding answers.  Professor Frost joined them quickly, and Cisco raised his hands in askance while Dr. Wells lounged in his seat and smirked.

“I’m not staying here a moment longer,” Colonel Court declared. “I demand you let me go.”

She stomped out into the hallway, and after a moment of long silence, the rest of them followed suit like angry ducklings.  Colonel Court marched right up to the door and began trying to force it open with brute strength. Unfortunately, the lock was well designed and it didn’t budge under her onslaught.

“Wait, please wait!” Cisco called, chasing after them.

“You can’t keep us here against our will!” Mrs. Flash said, her eyes blazing.

The rest of them started talking all at once, demanding to be let out and to know what was going on and what Cisco thought he was playing at.  Their words all melted together in a loud, angry, indecipherable jumble.

“Please, everyone, let us just take a seat in the lounge and everything will be explained!” Cisco called over the din. “The only key to that door is in my pocket, so none of you are leaving until you hear what I have to say!”

The yelling settled down and they all looked at each other, and then grumpily filed in to the lounge.  Eddie was already waiting there with a tray of bourbon snifters, which he handed out to each of them as they passed.  Professor Frost took hers but didn’t drink it, instead reaching into her clutch to pull out a cigarette case. She offered it around, but only Mr. Flash accepted.

“Okay, Cisco,” Dr. Wells said, leaning against the lounge door and crossing his arms. “Explain.”

* * *

 

Mr. Flash didn’t like any bit of this, and all he wanted to do was gather up his wife and take them both home.  Whatever reparations the letter had promised weren’t worth this uncertainty and the vague feeling of threat in the air.  Everything was tense and uncomfortable, and he took a long drag of the cigarette that Professor Frost had given him to try and calm his nerves.  It didn’t really help.

“We are all here,” Cisco said. “Because Dr. Wells has taken from us.”

Mr. Flash narrowed his eyes and glanced around at the others in the room.  They all looked just as confused as he did, and he wasn’t sure whether he should find that reassuring or not.

“Professor Frost,” Cisco said. “Your home used to be located fairly close to a laboratory where technological experiments were taking place.”

“Yes,” Professor Frost agreed, stiffening noticeably. 

“Just over a year ago, there was an explosion.”

“Yes,” she said again.

“Your husband, one Ronald Raymond, was killed in the blast.  An unfortunate side effect of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Yes,” she said again. “Must you bring up such painful memories in mixed company?”

Cisco didn’t acknowledge that, instead turning to face Mr. Flash.

“Mr. and Mrs. Flash,” he said. “Again, in another case of unfortunate timing, you too were affected by the explosion.  Namely by the electrical backlash.”

“My husband was struck by lightning,”  Mrs. Flash agreed, reaching over to take his hand.  He squeezed her fingers and spared her a small smile.

“Precisely,” Cisco said. “And unless I’m much mistaken that incident has had an adverse effect of your quality of life, Mr. Flash.”

“Oh no,” Mr. Flash denied quickly.

“His hands shake,” his wife spoke over him. “His head aches more days than not, and he’s permanently scarred.”

“Iri--Mrs. Flash, please,” he said, and she shot him a look that was utterly unapologetic.

Cisco, thankfully, had already moved on.

“Miss Quick,” he said. “You lost your mother in the explosion.”

“I did,” she said. “But whatever this is won’t bring her back.”

“But must there not be a cost for our crimes?” Cisco said. “Colonel Court.”

“My place of employment was in contracts with the tech lab,” she said. “I was a liason, and when things went badly I was terminated.  Are you quite done airing all of our personal affairs to the world?”

“Just one more,” Cisco said. “Mr. Gideon.  You worked in that tech lab, didn’t you?”

“I did,” he said. “I had nothing to do with the explosion.”

“No,” Cisco agreed. “And yet you still lost everything.  Your livelihood, your home…”

“That’s accurate,” he said, effectively cutting Cisco off in his tracks.

“What is the purpose of this?” Mr. Flash asked testily. “Why have you brought us all here?”

“I have brought you here because Dr. Wells is the man who owned and operated the tech lab,” Cisco said, and silence fell over the room like a blanket. “It is his fault that you’ve all faced misfortune, and I’ve gathered you here so that you may demand satisfaction.”

“Is that true?”  Professor Frost asked, her eyes tearing up. “Is it your fault my husband…”

“It’s true,” Dr. Wells said. “But I daresay not entirely accurate.  Excuse me for a moment.”

“There’s no way out!” Cisco called after him. “And there are some truly vicious dogs roaming the property tonight.”

“I’ll be back,” Dr. Wells said dismissively. “I just have some gifts for our guests.”

Mr. Flash looked to his wife nervously, and she squeezed his fingers once more and smiled.  He was glad, if he had to be in this awful place, that she was here with him. She was always his strength, and he felt better for having her in his presence.

They all sat there in silence, smoking or drinking or merely just staring into their laps as they waited for Dr. Wells to return.  He came back a few minutes later with a heavy canvas bag hefted over his shoulder.

“You see, I thought something like this might come to pass,” he said. “You were never particularly subtle, Cisco.”

“Subtle enough to get you right where I want you,” Cisco shot back.

“Have you, though?” he said, offering the bag out for Miss Quick to reach in. “Go on, take one.”

She stared at him and then reached blindly into the bag.  When she withdrew her hand, she was holding a wicked-looking kitchen knife.

“What in the world?” she breathed, but Dr. Wells was already moving to offer the bag to Mr. Gideon.  

He withdrew a heavy lead pipe, his eyebrows raising in surprise as he surveyed it.  Colonel Court received a large heavy-looking wrench, which she turned over in her hands quizzically.  Professor Frost withdrew a revolver, looking troubled, and finally the bag was presented to Mr. and Mrs. Flash.

He looked at his wife uncertainly, and she shrugged her shoulders almost imperceptibly before reaching into the bag.  She came out with one of the gilded candlesticks that had been set on the dinner table. Finally, Mr. Flash reached into the bag and groped around until his fingers met rough fiber.  He came out with a rope tied in a hangman’s noose, and he nearly dropped it nervously.

“What is the meaning of this?” Cisco demanded, looking around at them.

“There’s an important fact that Cisco has left out,” Dr. Wells announced. “It was certainly my lab where the explosion took place, I can’t deny that.  But what he conveniently neglected to mention was that he was the head engineer on the project that caused the explosion in the first place. In a way, you might say that the explosion was more his fault than mine.”

Cisco looked outraged, but when he opened his mouth to argue, Dr. Wells continued to speak loudly. 

“We’ve all been brought here and kept against our wills,” he said. “By a man trying to frame me for his own mistakes.”

“That’s an outrageous lie!” Cisco protested. 

“I have given each of you a gift.  A weapon. And Cisco, who is directly responsible for the misfortune of all of you, has the only key to the door.”

Cisco’s face went pale and he started back away from them, but unfortunately he had positioned himself on the side of the room without a door, and Dr. Wells was standing with his back pressed firmly against the only exit.

“I am going to turn off the lights now,” he said, putting his hand on the switch. “If you want to take your pound of flesh, or even just return to your homes, well...you know what to do.”

With that, the lights were extinguished, plunging them all into darkness.  

There was a shout, a scrape of a chair, a loud thud, and the sound of a gunshot followed by a scream. 

A second later the lights came back on, and there was a body on the floor.  Miss Quick, who had turned the lights back on, screamed and dropped the knife she still held onto the carpet.

“It’s not Cisco,” someone spoke up, which was blatantly obvious since the man in question was still standing, very much alive, on the other side of the room.

“It’s Dr. Wells,” Mr. Flash pointed out.

“Is he dead?” asked Mr. Gideon.

“I’ll check,” Professor Frost said, cautiously approaching the body.

She knelt down carefully in her full skirts and pressed her fingers against Dr. Wells’ neck.  Mr. Flash held his breath the whole time. Professor Frost leaned back and looked up at all of them.

“Dead,” she announced.

“You murdered him!” Miss Quick accused, looking like she was moments away from fainting.

“I did not!” Professor Frost said indignantly.  She looked around at all of them, as if hoping someone would come to her defense, but they all stayed ominously quiet.

“You had the gun,” Mr. Flash pointed out.

“Someone tried to grab it from me in the dark!” she insisted. “I fought them for it and it fired, but I didn’t kill him!”

“He wasn’t shot,” Colonel Court spoke up, finally.  She waved a hand at the body. “There’s no bullet wound.”

“That’s right!” Professor Frost insisted.  She stood and took a few paces from the body. “I didn’t kill him!”

“Then how’d he die?” Cisco asked, his voice shaky.  No doubt he was still in shock from a sudden and recent plot to have him killed.

“I don’t know,” Professor Frost said. “Perhaps someone hit him?”

“I need a drink,” Miss Quick said faintly.   She grabbed a snifter of brandy which had been abandoned on a nearby table and tossed it all back in one large gulp.

“Maybe it was poison!” Mrs. Flash shouted, and Miss Quick’s face went white with terror.  She dropped the empty snifter with a loud wail and collapsed onto the nearest chair.

“I’m sure it’s not that!” Professor Frost said quickly, trying to soothe the distressed girl.

“Well, we’ll just have to wait a while to see,” Mr. Gideon added. “It should be evident rather quickly.”

Miss Quick whimpered and Professor Frost fixed him with an icy glare, but before she could say anything, a high pitched scream sounded from somewhere else in the house.  They all looked at each other, then out towards the hall.

“For God’s sake, someone could be dying,” Colonel Court said, rushing from the room.  They followed the sounds of the screams to the Billiard Room, where they found Eddie unharmed, but standing on top of the billiards table.

“What are you screaming about?” Cisco demanded, looking a little less shaky than he had a few minutes before. “We thought you were being murdered!”

“Sorry!”  Eddie said, looking sheepish. “I saw a rat.  Can’t stand the things.”

They all breathed an audible sigh of relief and Eddie frowned, looking around at them. 

“What’s happened?” he asked. “Why would you think I’d been murdered?”

“Well, you wouldn’t be the first,” Mrs. Flash sighed.

“Excuse me?” Eddie asked, but no one answered him.  Instead, they all trooped back into the lounge, where the body still lay on the floor.

“What is going on in this madhouse?” Eddie demanded.  “Who killed Dr. Wells?”

“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?” Cisco asked. “Someone in this house is a murderer.”

“How do we know it wasn’t you?” Mr. Flash shot back. “You lured us all out here, lied to us, and now we’re supposed to trust you?”

“It wasn’t me,” Cisco said. “And I admit I did lure you out here under...slightly false pretenses.”

“But why?” Mr. Gideon asked. “What’s the point?”

“The explosion at STAR Labs has ruined my career,” Cisco sighed. “Dr. Wells put all the blame on me and I haven’t been able to find a job ever since.  I was hoping that, if we all teamed up together, we’d get him to admit what he’d done and make reparations. No one was supposed to be hurt.”

“Well someone is very much hurt,” Mr. Gideon said. “And I’m leaving.”

“You can’t leave,” Cisco said. “Someone in this house is a murderer!”

“All the better to leave, then!” Mr. Gideon insisted. “STAR has ruined my life quite enough, thank you!  I won’t die for it.”

“I can’t allow you to leave,” Cisco insisted. “Not until we get to the bottom of this.”

“My conscience won’t allow me to knowingly let a murderer walk free,” Colonel Court sighed. “I agree with Cisco.”

“Thank you!” Cisco said. “Let’s get to the bottom of this.”

Mr. Flash looked to his wife to see what she was thinking, but her face was carefully blank as she surveyed the body and then the room itself.  Mr. Flash reached out to take her hand again and she hardly looked at him as their fingers laced together.

“It will be alright,” he assured her.  She only nodded.

“Was there anyone else in the house?” Professor Frost asked.

“No,” Cisco said. “Just…”

“The cook,” Eddie finished.

They were all silent and still for a moment, and then in a flurry of sudden movement, they all raced for the door, back out into the hall once more, and towards the dining room.  The kitchen, when they entered it, was empty but for some dirty dishes soaking in the sink.

“Well, where is he?” Miss Quick asked.

“Perhaps fleeing the scene after murdering a man,” Mr. Gideon said dryly.

Mr. Flash looked around the room for any place that an average-sized man could hide, and landed on the dry pantry.  If he had murdered Dr. Wells, the doors were all still locked. He would have to be hiding in the house. He approached the door quietly, holding a finger to his lips as a warning to the others, and then yanked the door open quickly.

He was hit by a weight that almost staggered him, and for a moment he was sure he was being murdered.  But then he heard his wife scream, got his wits about him, and realized that what had hit him wasn’t a blunt instrument, but rather a body.

He dropped it quickly and stepped away yelling “I didn’t do it!” almost hysterically.

“We know you didn’t do it, you buffoon,” Mr. Gideon snapped. “He was already dead when we got here.”

And surely enough, the Cook lay dead on the floor, a large knife sticking out of his back.

“Who had the knife?” Professor Frost asked quietly.

“I...I did” Miss Quick stuttered. “But I could never...and...the knife I had, I dropped it in the lounge!”

“I remember that,” Mr. Flash said, and Miss Quick shot him a grateful smile.

“Anyone could have picked it up,” she added. 

“So we still have no clues,” Cisco sighed. “Very well, let’s take the body to the lounge.”

“Why?” Mrs. Flash asked, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

“I’m a butler, ma’am,” Cisco said flatly. “I like the kitchen to be tidy.  Mr. Flash, Mr. Gideon, if you would?”

Together, the three of them heaved the literal dead weight back to the lounge.  Mrs. Flash got the door for them, but came to a dead stop right before they entered the room.

“What is it now?” Cisco asked, clearly a little winded from the effort. “Another body?”

“No,” Mrs. Flash said. “But the one that was here is gone.”

She moved aside to reveal that, in fact, Dr. Wells’ body was no longer sprawled on the floor.

“I’ll be damned,” Colonel Court swore. “Apparently he wasn’t dead after all.”

“What kind of doctor can’t even check for a pulse?” Mr. Gideon demanded, turning a glare on Professor Frost.

“I don’t know, I made a mistake!” Professor Frost said defensively.

“Clearly,” he said. 

“Okay, that’s not what matters right now,” Cisco said. “What matters is that we find who killed the Cook.”

“Dr. Wells, maybe?” Miss Quick suggested weakly. “If he were alive he would have had plenty of opportunity to sneak out and kill the Cook while we were in the Billiard Room.”

“But the body was still on the floor when we got back from the Billiard Room,” Eddie pointed out. “He couldn’t have beaten us to the kitchen, murdered the Cook, and gotten out again without us seeing him.”

“Fair point,” she admitted. “So one of us had to have done it.  I doubt the Cook shoved a knife into his own back.”

“Or there’s someone else in the house with us that none of us know about,” Cisco said. “Perhaps we should split up and search?”

“I’m not going anywhere alone, there’s a murderer on the loose!” Miss Quick said, her eyes tearing up. “I don’t want to be murdered!”

“Then we’ll go in groups,” Mr. Gideon offered. “You’re more than welcome to come with me, Miss Quick.”

“But what if you’re the murderer?” she asked.

“And what if you are?” he shot back.

“That’s a good idea,” Cisco spoke up. “We’ll split up into groups of two, and each group will search one floor of the house.  We’ll draw lots.” He grabbed a handful of long matches from near the fireplace and began to cut them methodically into matching pairs of different lengths.

“What if someone gets paired with the murderer?” Mrs. Flash asked nervously.

“Then I suppose we’ll know who the murderer is,” Mr. Gideon said.

“But the other half of the pair will be dead!” Miss Quick cried.

“Very reassuring, thank you,” Mr. Flash said, shooting Mr. Gideon a glare.

“Whoever picks the longest match will search the attic, the second longest the second floor, and so on,” Cisco said, gathering the matches up in his hands and arranging them so that they all looked to be the same length. “Go on, then.”

The scene of them plucking lots from Cisco’s hand and trying to find their partners could be called a comedy of errors.  There was a lot of bumping hands and waspish words. When they each had a match, they all measured them together while fixing each other with suspicious looks.  Mr. Flash’s heart was in his throat, and he was immediately disappointed to find that his lot did not match his wife’s. He had hoped that they could stay together, both so that he would know that she was safe and also because he knew she couldn’t possibly be the murderer, which would make him safe as well.  Instead, she was paired with Colonel Court on the first floor, and he with Cisco on the second. Mr. Gideon and Eddie would take the attic, leaving Miss Quick and Professor Frost to take the basement.

“So, we split up, we search the house,” Cisco said as they left the lounge and entered the hall. “Leave no stone unturned. Now, the basement and the attic aren’t particularly well-lit, but I believe there are some candles in the closet.”

As he opened a door, yet another body fell out, causing Miss Quick to scream once more.  Or, to be more accurate, the same body fell out, for that certainly was the body of Dr. Wells, though now with a bloody bludgeoning wound on the back of his head.

“Someone killed him again?” Mrs. Flash asked, aghast.

“Killed him for the first time, more like,” Cisco sighed. “All right, help me get him back into the lounge.”

Again, Mr. Flash found himself participating in the distasteful task of carrying a dead body, but he was so emotionally worn out he couldn’t even be horrified by it.  They dropped the corpse unceremoniously onto the couch and headed back out into the hall.

Cisco opened his mouth to speak, and the doorbell chimed.  He looked toward the door, confused, and then back at them, like he thought they might have invited someone to join them.

“Who could that possibly be?” he mused.

“Don’t answer it,” Mr. Gideon said.

“You have to answer it,” Professor Frost argued. “All the lights are on, they’ll find it suspicious if no one answers the door.”

Cisco looked at the door again, clearly thinking, and then shrugged.

“I suppose you’re right.  I’ll send whoever it is away.  The rest of you, go ahead and start your search.”

He went to the door, careful to keep himself bodily in front of it to prevent anyone from rushing for freedom.  When he noticed they weren’t moving, he turned to scowl at them.

“You all know where you’re going,” Cisco said. “Get on with it.”

Mr. Flash wanted to protest, not wanting to be left alone, nor to leave Cisco alone, but he clearly wasn’t going to open the door until he left.  He started up the stairs slowly, and he heard the front door creak open and Cisco speaking in a casual happy tone. He couldn’t hear what the person at the door was saying, but he did hear the long hesitation and then Cisco saying, 

“Of course, sir, I’ll have you wait in the study.”

A minute or so later he came up the stairs, tucking a key back into his vest pocket, and raised his eyebrows at Mr. Flash.

“Have you looked?” he asked.

“I was waiting for you,” Mr. Flash said. “Who was that?”

“A stranger,” Cisco said. “His carriage threw a wheel and he’s stranded.  I told him he could wait out the storm.”

“Are you insane?”  Mr. Flash demanded. “With what’s going on in this house….”

“I locked him in the study,” Cisco assured him. “He’ll be just fine.”

He headed off to check the first room, leaving Mr. Flash to hem and haw in the hallway.

* * *

 

Colonel Court was surprisingly calm in the face of murder.  Mrs. Flash couldn’t decide if that coolness came from her military background, or if she was so unshakeable because she had no reason to fear being murdered.  Which would intuit that she was, in fact, the murderer. Though at the same time, Mrs. Flash was finding herself worryingly numb to the whole situation, so perhaps she was judging too harshly.

Trapped in a house with a murderer, it didn’t seem that she could be too careful.

“Well,” Mrs. Flash said. “We know what’s in the lounge and the Billiard Room.”

“So that leaves the Ballroom, the conservatory, the dining room and the kitchen,” Colonel Court responded.

“If it's alright with you, I’d like to start with the kitchen,” Mrs. Flash said. “At least I can be reasonably sure that we won’t find any more bodies in there.”

Colonel Court nodded and waved her ahead, but Mrs. Flash glared at her suspiciously, uneager to turn her back.  It was entirely possible that Colonel Court was innocent in all of this. It was also entirely possible that she wasn’t.  Mrs. Flash was choosing to err on the side of caution.

“You don’t trust me,” the Colonel said. “I suppose that’s fair.”

She stepped up to Mrs. Flash’s side and they headed towards the dining room together.

The dining room was mostly barren, but for the lavishly-decorated table that still had the remains of their abandoned dinner.  Mrs. Flash noted that one of the candlesticks was missing; presumably the very same one that she had been given in the lounge. It only took a quick turn around before they were satisfied that it was empty, and they continued on in to the kitchen.  Again, it was a relatively small room, and there weren’t many places to hide. Still, Colonel Court dutifully checked the ice box and the space under the sink.

Mrs. Flash focused her attention on the pantry where they had found the Cook’s body.  It seemed as good a place as any to check, and possibly the only place big enough to hide a person in the whole kitchen anyway.  The room was rather large, extending about five feet, with rows of shelves on either side. The shelves were stocked with an assortment of canned foods and jarred preserves.

She did her due diligence in checking the pantry, feeling ridiculous even as she looked under the bottom row of shelves and squinted up at the top ones.  She even pushed a few cans aside, as if she might find a very tiny man hiding amongst them. 

One of the jars didn’t budge under her gentle push, so she frowned and pushed it a little harder.  As she did, the back wall of the pantry swung open like a door, leading into a cobweb ridden brick hallway.  It too was lit with electric lights, though it still somehow managed to seem dim and dark.

“Find anyone?” Colonel Court called.

“There’s a secret passage,” Mrs. Flash said. “I moved a jar and it opened right up.”

“Well, where does it go?” Colonel Court asked, coming up behind her to peer curiously into the passage.

“How am I meant to know?” Mrs. Flash asked, a little cross. “I suppose we should investigate?”

“I suppose we should,” the Colonel agreed.

They looked suspiciously at each other and then squeezed through the doorway at the same time.  The whole passage was just as skinny and cobwebby as the doorway had been, and after a few minutes Mrs. Flash thoroughly regretted the impulse to investigate.  She particularly regretted it when the tunnel ended at a blank wall.

“There must be some sort of release,” Colonel Court said, feeling around.

“It may just be a dead end,” Mrs. Flash disagreed, but she ran her hands along the wall as well.  

After a long minute, the Colonel made an ‘aha!’ noise and the wall turned as if there were a hinge going directly down the middle of it.  They came out from behind a fireplace, which swung back into place and sealed as soon as they were clear of it.

“The study,” Colonel Court said.

Mrs. Flash started screaming.

There on the floor in front of the liquor cart was a dead man.  He looked as if he’d been beat over the back of the head with something heavy, and surely enough the heavy wrench that had been gifted to the Colonel was abandoned on the floor nearby.  The worst part was that she knew that man. Better than she knew anyone in the world, maybe, and he was dead.

She continued to scream, somehow unable to stop herself, until she heard shouting from the other side of the door as it rattled on its hinges.

“Get a hold of yourself!” Colonel Court scolded. “What’s the matter with you?”

“I...he…”

“It’s certainly not the first corpse you’ve seen tonight,” the Colonel said. 

The door finally burst open and Mr. Flash rushed in and took her in his arms.

“It’s… Bar…!”

“Shhh,” her husband shushed her, gently stroking her hair away from her face. “I know. Shh.”

She wanted to snap at him, to tell him to stop shushing her, but the tiny rational part of her brain realized that he was trying to protect her.  They hadn’t revealed their identities, and for all they knew that was the only thing keeping them safe.

“Cisco, I demand that you let us out!” Mr. Flash said sharply, still stroking her hair soothingly.

“I can’t do that,” Cisco said. “We’re in this far too deep now.  We have to see it through.”

“We certainly do not,” Mr. Flash insisted. “We are being terrorized and hunted down and…”

“If you leave, I’ll tell the police you did it,” Miss Quick spoke up. “The Cook and Dr. Wells and whoever that man in there is.  I’ll pin it all on you.”

“So will I!” Professor Frost said quickly.

“Have you no honor?” Mr. Flash demanded.  She could feel him tensing up under her, indignant and enraged.

“We’re past honor, Mr. Flash,” Mr. Gideon said. “This is a game of survival, now.  Any one of us could be a cold-blooded killer, and just because your wife lets out some wails and bats her eyelashes…”

“Fine,” Mr. Flash said stiffly. “Fine, we’ll finish searching the…”

The doorbell tolled once more and Cisco groaned loudly.

“Who could possibly be….”

He marched over to the door and unlocked it, glaring at them suspiciously over his shoulder as he opened the door.  He froze in place when he turned his attention back forward and they all waited silently.

“Good evening, officer,” Cisco said.

Miss Quick’s face went ghost pale and she looked for a moment like she might faint right there.  Mr. Gideon just looked sour, like he’d sucked a lemon, and the Colonel seemed to be listening intently.  Mrs. Flash did the same.

“...heard screaming and I thought I’d come and make sure everything is okay.”

“Yessir, everything is quite wonderful,” Cisco was saying, sounding strained and nervous.

“May I come in?  I’d like to take a look around.”

“I…” Cisco paused clearly trying to think of any excuse to keep the officer out of the house and coming up with nothing. “Yes, I suppose you may.  We can show you the study…”

“No!” the Colonel said quickly. 

“I mean the Billiard Room!” Cisco said. “And the dining room, the kitchen.”

“The ballroom!” Miss Quick added.

“Precisely, the ballroom!” Cisco said. “Miss Quick would be delighted to show you the ballroom!”

“Oh yes, right this way, sir!” Miss Quick said, taking him by the arm and practically dragging him down the hall.

“What do we do now?” the Colonel demanded in a harsh whisper. “Now the police are involved!”

“Well I couldn’t exactly leave him outside!” Cisco hissed. “That would have been much more suspicious!”

“He’s suspicious anyway,” Mr. Gideon said. “And now he’s in the house, where there are currently three corpses!”

“I know!” Cisco hissed. “We have to do something with them...hide them somewhere!”

“Where?” Mrs. Flash asked, taking a few gulping breaths to try and get herself under control.

“What about behind the fireplace?” the Colonel suggested.  Cisco snapped his fingers and pointed at her.

“Brilliant,” he said.

“Behind the fireplace?” Mr. Flash repeated, obviously confused.

“It’s a secret passageway,” Cisco said. “It goes to the kitchen.  Come, we have to move these bodies quickly, before Miss Quick runs out of charm.”

Mrs. Flash stood back with the Colonel as the men moved the bodies.  She was shaken, and she didn’t want to see them move him. She didn’t want to see him flopped on the ground like so much trash.  She couldn’t handle that. So she feigned weakness and feminine vapors and stayed firmly in the hall. Miss Quick came back before long, chasing at the heels of the officer, and tried to lure him in to the Billiard room or the dining room, or anywhere but the study and the lounge, but he wasn’t deterred.

“I’d like to see what is in those rooms,” he said sternly, pushing his way into the lounge.

It was, thankfully, empty of bodies.  He looked around suspiciously and then backed out of the room and headed towards the study.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather…” Colonel Court tried to intercede him, but side-stepped her easily.

“I’d like to go into this room,” he said again.

He tore the door open, took two steps in, and stopped in his tracks.

“Oh good lord,” the Colonel whispered, and the officer exclaimed, “Just what is going on here?”

Mrs. Flash rushed up behind him, not quite sure what she was going to do yet but knowing that she had to do something, and came to just as sudden of a stop as the officer had.  As far as she could see, there were no bodies in the room. However, there was arguably a more shocking sight.

Mr. Gideon and Cisco were locked in a passionate embrace while her husband stood off to the side looking rather uncomfortable.  Cisco made a show of pulling away from Mr. Gideon’s mouth in surprise and looked at the little group assembled in the doorway.

“Oh my,” he said. “Excuse me officer, we thought you were in the ballroom.”

“Is this why you were being so suspicious?” the officer demanded.

“Um...well…” Cisco said.

“You see…” Mr. Gideon hedged.

“It’s not as if it’s illegal, gentleman,” the officer said. “Unorthodox, perhaps, and I can’t imagine what you do with three, but what a man gets up to in his own home is no business of mine. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

He turned to leave, and there was a moment where they all breathed a sigh of relief and then he said, “Actually, wait a moment. Is there a phone I can use?”

“There is, actually,” Cisco said. “In the library. I’ll show you.”

He patted Mr. Gideon’s cheek with mock affection, not seeming to notice when the man scowled at him. They all trailed after the pair like ducklings, watching as Cisco allowed him into the library and then slipped out and locked the door behind him.

“This is falling apart quickly,” Cisco said. “We need to finish searching the house and get this solved before anything else goes wrong.”

As they split up once more, the door to the library rattled and the officer yelled, “Did you lock me in?”

* * *

 

“This is a waste of time and energy,” Mr. Gideon grumbled as they looked around the overstuffed attic with only candlelight to see by.  It was dark and crowded and he was fairly positive that someone could be hiding right in front of them and he’d never manage to see it.

“It gives us a way to feel proactive,” Eddie said. “It’s better than sitting around waiting to be killed.”

“I don’t intend to be killed,” Mr. Gideon informed him.

“Well I’m sure the same thing can be said for everyone else,” Eddie said. “Anyway, what does it hurt to look around some?  Why don’t you check the back half and I’ll check the front half and we’ll be done before you know it.”

“Very well,” Mr. Gideon sighed. “I want it on record that I think this is inane.”

“Noted,” Eddie said.

The back half of the attic was just as crowded as the front, though it was possibly more laden with spiderwebs, and a touch darker.  There seemed to be all sorts of furniture up there, as well as knick knacks of all sorts and even paintings that had, at one point, been stored in boxes, but were now left to ruin across random surfaces.

He held his candle close to what looked to be a painting of a landscape, and then the power went out, plunging him even further into darkness.  He jumped in surprise and the candle flickered out, leaving him completely blind. He pressed his back to the nearest piece of furniture he could fumble towards and groped around for a weapon.  No one would be sneaking up on him in the dark, that was for certain. 

He could hear someone screaming from downstairs, though whether it was another body, a murder, or simply fright of the dark he had no way of knowing.  With nothing else to do and no other options, he started making his way carefully through the clutter of the attic, back towards the stairs.

* * *

 

He crept quietly down the stairs, careful to avoid making any more noise than necessary.  He knew that there was a spare key to the front door in the Billiard Room, only because he had hidden it there weeks ago in case he ever needed to sneak out past curfew.  Now it would be perfect for escaping this nightmare. He only had to find it. In the dark.

He crept into the Billiard room, quietly as he could, and froze when he saw a shadow moving in the dark corner.

“Who’s there?” he demanded.

The only answer he received was a noose closing over his throat.  He gasped and tried to grab it, but it was too tight. So very tight, and his vision was getting spotty and his chest was burning and…

* * *

 

In the basement, Miss Quick and Professor Frost stuck close together.  Miss Quick didn’t want to admit it, but she was genuinely terrified and felt meek as a mouse.  She didn’t know how the others seemed to be keeping their heads so easily when she was just barely holding herself together.

“I hate this,” Miss Quick said quietly. “I just want to go home.”

“I’m sure you’ll be quite safe, Miss Quick,” Professor Frost assured her.

“We’re all going to be killed,” Miss Quick said bitterly. “I should never have come to this horrible place.”

As Professor Frost was trying to come up with some comforting words for the young lady, the lights flickered out.  Miss Quick screeched and dropped her candle, which extinguished as it hit the floor. Professor Frost bit back a sigh and pulled her close.

“My candle is still lit, it’s okay,” she said. “We’ll stick close together.”

* * *

 

“This is stupid,” Cisco said into the darkness even as he reached for him. “It’s unsafe. I don’t know how to get it all back under control.”

“Things are not going to plan,” he agreed, pressing his mouth against Cisco’s palm in a gentle kiss. “But it will be over soon.”

“Are you sure?” Cisco asked. “No one was supposed to die.”

“I’m sure,” he said. “We’ll be okay.  It won’t be long now.”

Cisco kissed him, desperate and scared, and then slipped away quietly.

* * *

 

“There’s just something strange going on here,” Hartley Rathaway said into the telephone receiver. “I’m not sure what, but something just doesn’t sit right with me.  They’re having some kind of dinner party, but they’re odd and they’ve locked me in this room….”

Suddenly, the room went dark and the phone went dead, and Hartley cursed under his breath.  Things just kept getting stranger and stranger, and he didn’t appreciate it at all. He froze, having the sudden and uncanny feeling that someone was behind him, but before he could turn around to investigate, he was struck over the head and dead before he hit the floor.

* * *

 

“The only place left to check is the conservatory,” Mrs. Flash said, looking uncertainty at the green-glass room.  

The Colonel paused, daunted by the idea of entering the room, though she would never admit it.  But she could hear the angry growls and snapping jaws of the dogs that Cisco had mentioned, and it didn’t seem that a thin pane of glass would be enough to keep them from entering, should they so choose.

“Let’s go, then,” the Colonel said, ushering her along so that neither of them were exposing their backs to each other.

“There’s probably not much to see in here,” Mrs. Flash said nervously, peering under tables and around hanging vines.  

“Probably not,” she agreed, though they both knew it was bluster.

It seemed like a fine place for someone to hide if they didn’t wish to be seen, and her heart sat uncomfortably in her throat as they made their way deeper inside.  The rain sounded much louder and much more ominous echoing through the glass room, and it was taking every ounce of courage she had not to turn tail and flee.

That courage failed her, when, all as one, the lights flickered out.  She couldn’t stop the scream that ripped from her throat. She snapped her mouth closed quickly, embarrassed, but Mrs. Flash didn't say anything.

The doorbell chimed once more, and she froze in her tracks.  Who else could possibly be at the door? She wondered, suddenly, if Cisco had remembered to lock it again after opening the last time.  She couldn’t recall. Surely enough, as she listened, the door creaked open quietly, and there was a short murmur of voices followed by a single gun shot.

If possible, the Colonel went even more still and silent, barely even daring to breathe.  The conservatory was just off the front door, and if anyone was inclined to come shoot at her she didn’t think there was much she could do to run or hide in such total darkness.

Almost a full two minutes passed in heart-pounding silence before she heard a shout from upstairs, followed by a set of feet pounding down the stairs.  Less than a minute later, the lights came back on. Mrs. Flash looked at the Colonel nervously and finally released her wrist. Together, they made their way back into the hallway, where the rest of the guests were congregating in front of the open door to the Billiard Room.

Mrs. Flash gasped when she looked in and saw Eddie sprawled across the table, face purple with a noose tight around his neck.  The door to the library was also wide open, which was odd considering that Cisco had locked the officer in before they had split up.   As one, they moved over to the doorway, no one seeming at all surprised to find the officer bent over the back of the couch, his head bludgeoned in.  A blood-soaked lead pipe lay abandoned at his feet.

“Two more bodies,” Mr. Gideon said.

“But neither of them shot,” Mr. Flash added. “I thought I heard a gun.”

“We heard it too,” the Colonel said. “And the doorbell.”

“The murderer must have run out!” Miss Quick exclaimed, rushing toward the door.  

Surely enough, it was unlocked, but when she swung it open it was only to find the body of a man with a bullet hole neatly in the middle of his forehead.  She gasped and slammed the door shut again. Cisco hurried to lock it.

“That’s six people dead,” the Colonel said. “This is getting serious.”

“Getting serious?” Mrs. Flash exclaimed. “I believe it was serious five corpses ago!  We’re all going to die in this wretched house!”

“Please be calm, Mrs. Flash,” Cisco said soothingly.

“How am I meant to be calm?” she hissed.

“Because I know who the killer is,” Cisco said simply.

This announcement was met with a prolonged, stunned silence.  They all looked at each other uncertainty, and then at Cisco.

“I beg your pardon?” Miss Quick asked.

“I know who the killer is,” Cisco insisted. “I’ve only just realized.”

“Well...then who is it?” Mr. Flash asked.

“It’s quite simple, really,” Cisco said. “The killer is the person who wasn’t in the kitchen with us when we discovered the Cook’s body.”

“Oh, is it that simple?” Mr. Gideon asked sarcastically.

“Just so, Mr. Gideon,” Cisco said. “For you see, Dr. Wells wasn’t dead, at first.  He must have realized that his plan was going awry when someone tried to shoot him in the dark and he pretended to be dead.  Until we went to the kitchen, leaving him free to make a run for it. However, the person who murdered him slipped away while we were dealing with the Cook, saw that he was trying to escape, and bashed him over the head with the candlestick before hiding the body in the closet!”

He looked around at them triumphantly, almost like he was expecting applause, but he was met only with more stunned silence.

“Well, then who was it?” Mrs. Flash asked finally.

“Simple,” Cisco said again. “What kind of Doctor can’t tell if a man is dead or alive?”

They all turned to look at Professor Frost, who stuttered for a moment and took a few steps away from them, looking around as if for an exit.

“I...what are you saying?” she demanded indignantly. 

“I’m saying that you tried to kill Dr. Wells in the lounge, but your bullet went wide,” Cisco said, suddenly serious and damning. “To throw off any suspicion, you falsely declared him dead, didn’t you Professor Frost?”

“I…” she started, but Cisco didn’t let her finish.

“Then later, when we were all in the kitchen focused on the Cook, you snuck away to finish the job!”

“Fine!” Professor Frost shouted indignantly. “I did kill him, just how you said!  He was trying to escape, after everything he’d done, so I grabbed the candlestick and bashed him over the head with it!  He deserved it! He ruined my life! He ruined all of our lives!”

There was a stunned silence as they all surveyed her and she looked defensive but not at all regretful.

“But she was with us in the Billiard Room when Eddie was screaming,” Mr. Flash pointed out. “If she was there, how could she have killed the Cook?”

“I didn’t kill the Cook,” Professor Frost said defensively.

“And how are we supposed to believe that?” Miss Quick demanded. “You already admitted to what you’ve done…”

“I think it would be easy for you to believe,  Miss Quick,” Cisco interrupted sternly. “Since you’re the one who killed the cook.”

“Cisco,” she said, her eyes going wide and wounded. “I…”

“Don’t lie, Quick,” Cisco said. “You were the only one not in Billiard Room, and you were the last to reenter the lounge.  And I happen to know that the Cook, one Mr. Hunter Zoloman, has been chasing your affections for weeks with no inclination to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“Well...I…”

“And so you decided to seize the moment, didn’t you?” Cisco accused. “You saw Hunter when he was serving dinner earlier tonight, and when you realized there was already a body count you seized the opportunity to rid yourself of a problem.”

“That’s so cold and callous,” Miss Quick insisted. “How could you believe…”

“So while we were running off to check on Eddie, you grabbed the knife from where you’d dropped it, took the secret passage to the kitchen, and murdered him!”

“Fine,” Miss Quick said, her face going hard.  Suddenly, she was no longer the wailing, waifish girl she’d been all night, looking ready to faint at any moment.  Instead, her shoulders were squared and strong and there was steel in her gaze. “I did kill him. It was only a matter of time before he did something to hurt me, so I seized the opportunity and took measures into my own hands.”

“I can’t believe this,” Mr. Gideon started, but he was interrupted by the Colonel who asked, “What about Eddie?”

“I believe that honor goes to Mr. Flash,” Cisco said, and Mrs. Flash gasped in offense.

“How dare you?” she demanded. “My husband would never…”

“Oh, but he would, Mrs. Flash, and I think you know it,” Cisco interrupted her. “Because you recognized Eddie, didn’t you?  I saw it in your eyes and on your husband’s face. I’m guessing he was an old sweetheart and Mr. Flash just couldn’t stand the idea of someone else having touched his wife…”

“Well, yes I recognized Eddie, but my husband would never…!”

“I did it,” Mr. Flash spoke up. “I don’t know what came over me.  While Cisco was checking the Master Bedroom, I snuck down the stairs, cut the power, and strangled him.  I just...I hated him so much!”

Mrs. Flash stared at her husband in shock, raising a hand to cover her gaping mouth, her eyes filling with tears.

“I’m sorry, Iris,” Mr. Flash said. “I’m so sorry.”

“I can’t believe you,” she said, betrayed.

“I wouldn’t get so high and mighty Mrs. Flash,” Cisco said. “You’re not innocent in this either.”

“What?” Mr. Flash asked, teary-eyed. “Who?”

“The police officer,” Mrs. Flash admitted. “I did it to protect us.  He was going to find out what was happening and I wasn’t about to let us go to jail for murders we hadn’t committed!”

“Except we did,” Mr. Flash said.

“Except we did,” Mrs. Flash agreed.

“Okay, so then who shot the man on the porch?” Miss Quick asked, and the rest looked back and forth between Mr. Gideon and Colonel Court.

“I didn’t kill anyone,” Mr. Gideon said, and the Colonel nodded in agreement.

“Well someone had to have!” Mr. Flash insisted.

“Oh, that one was me,” Cisco said, flipping his jacket aside to reveal the revolver in the waistband of his pants.

“Cisco!” Mr. Gideon said, sounded surprised and strangely wounded.

“He was a messenger,” Cisco said, opening the door to look down at the body. “And before that he was a bad man.  My brother lost his hands to frostbite because of him, and later he killed himself. It just seemed as good an opportunity as any to tie up loose ends.”

“That’s cold blooded,” Colonel Court said.

“Well, who did you kill?” Miss Quick demanded.

“No one,” the Colonel said.

“The man with the broken carriage?” Mr. Flash suggested. “In the study?” 

Mrs. Flash let out an enraged shriek and launched herself at the Colonel.

“That was my father!” she yelled, much to everyone’s surprise. “I don’t know why he was even here but you murdered him!  He was a good man!”

Colonel Court grabbed her by the wrists and redirected her scratching nails, doing her best to fend her off but not doing very well against pure rage and aggression.  Then, to everyone’s surprise, the carriage owner rushed out of the study and grabbed his daughter around the waist.

“Iris!” he said. “Iris, it’s okay!  I’m fine!”

“What?” Iris said, tears pouring down her face. “Daddy?”

“I’m okay,” he assured her, hugging her tightly when she threw her arms around him.

“I suppose, more accurately, I only pretended to murder him,” Colonel Court said smugly.

“But why?” Professor Frost asked. “For what purpose?”

“Well, you see,” the Colonel said. “This is Detective Joe West.”

A stunned silence fell over the room, and then Professor Frost began to laugh.  It was almost hysterical, and she grabbed her stomach as she cackled madly.

“You set me up!” she said. “But you failed!  Dr. Wells is dead!”

“Not quite,”  Mr. Gideon spoke up, pulling a pair of glasses out of his breast pocket and sliding them on his nose.  They somehow made his blue eyes look even more intense.

“What do you mean?” Professor Frost demanded. “He’s dead, I made sure of it!”

“Well, someone is certainly dead,” Gideon agreed. “My butler, Eobard Thawne.”

“Then…” Mr. Flash said slowly. “You’re…?”

“Dr. Harrison Wells,” Mr. Gideon said.

“And who are you?” Mr. Flash asked Cisco.

“I told you,” he said. “I’m Cisco.”

“And you’re his….?”

“Husband,” Cisco said.

The room fell into a stunned silence as Mr. Flash shook his head in confusion.

“I don’t understand,” he said finally.

“It’s quite simple, really,” Cisco said. “My husband has been receiving death threats for months, and we decided to do something about it.  We traced the letters back to a specific postage point, but we couldn’t narrow down whether the letters were coming from one of the Flashes, or from Professor Frost.”

“So you...arranged a murder dinner?” Mrs. Flash asked, still held tightly in her father’s arms, though her tears had stopped flowing.

“No one was meant to be hurt,” Cisco said. “We were hoping that we would be able to find out who had murderous intent by gathering you in a room full of other victims.  Unfortunately, Mr. Thawne went off script and lost his life for it.”

He turned and fixed Dr. Wells with a steely glare. “I told you he was a bad choice.”

“So...you were all in on this,” Mr. Flash said. “Everyone?”

“Just us, the Colonel, and Joe,” Cisco said.

“And Miss Quick,” Dr. Wells said, and then he sternly added, “Who was not supposed to be here.”

“Please, Daddy, you can’t expect that I’d allow myself to be left out,” she said, a little snottily.

“It was a bit of a convoluted plan,” Dr. Wells admitted. “But it worked out.  We got our man. So to speak.”

“We’ve also go five bodies,” Joe said, a little sternly, looking around at all of them.

“And, I believe, a perfect scapegoat,” Dr. Wells said, nodding at Professor Frost.

She screamed then, a wild ragged, “no!” and threw herself at Cisco, going for the gun in his waistband.  He fumbled for it as well, and the both fought for it in the world’s most dangerous game of tug-o-war. Detective West was yelling and Mrs. Flash was pulling her husband by the arm away from the scuffle while Dr. Wells pushed Miss Quick behind the study door and went to help his husband.

Before he could reach them, though, the gun fired twice directly towards the ceiling and Professor Frost managed to wrench it from Cisco’s hands.

“Now back away,” she snarled, training the gun on him.

Cisco raised his hands and stepped away from her slowly, back towards his husband.

“Now I’m going to leave,” she said, her eyes wild. “And no one is going to come after me, you understand?  Because if I go down, I’m taking you all down with me.”

“We understand,” Cisco said quickly. “Have a lovely evening.”

“Well, first,” she said cocking the revolver. “I have one more task to complete.”

She trained the gun on Dr. Wells, her hands shaking just slightly as she lined up her shot and put her finger to the trigger.

Then, there was a strange cracking noise and the chandelier came falling from the ceiling, directly on top of Professor Frost’s head.  She didn’t even have time to scream, and the gun skittered away across the floor amidst a plethora of shattered crystal and blood spatter.

“Well,” Cisco said, breaking the stunned silence. “I suppose that’s that.”

“‘I suppose it is,” Joe sighed. “Dr. Caitlin Snow went on a rampage and murdered five party guests before her own hubris got her killed.  Sound about right?”

“Sounds exactly right to me,” Cisco said quickly, and the others all hummed and nodded in agreement.

“Well, then there we go,” Joe said. “I’ll call someone to collect the bodies.”

And one by one the guests all left.  The Flashes, Barry and Iris West-Allen, left first, almost immediately.  It had been a long night and they had clearly discovered some things about themselves that they weren’t pleased with.  Colonel Court, Cecile Horton, followed quickly after them, wishing them all a good night. Jesse Wells, better known as Miss Quick, kissed her father’s cheek and went upstairs to her bedroom.

Finally, only Joe remained, and he told them to leave the bodies where they lay until the morning.  It was too late and he was far too tired to deal with it, and after the stressful events of the night, Cisco was inclined to agree.

“We’ll have to find a new Cook,” Harry grumbled as they helped each other shed their clothes and climbed into bed.

“And a maid,” Cisco added.

“This plan could not have gone worse,” Harry said dryly, and Cisco pressed up against his front.

“I was so afraid I was going to lose you,” he admitted into the darkness.

“I was afraid too,” Harry admitted. “When I tried to grab the gun from Snow in the dark and it went off, I was so afraid that I’d killed you myself.

“We’re both okay,” Cisco said. “We’re both here.”

“We are,” Harry agreed, pressing a few comforting kisses into Cisco’s hair. “Hush now.”

“What do we do now?” Cisco asked, ignoring his husband’s shushing.

“Well,” Harry said. “I for one plan to stay home and sleep with my husband.”

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS: I know I made Caitlin a baddie but I just wanted to say it's not because I dislike Caitlin at all. It's because she had the best motive for wanting Harry dead and that's just the way the chips fell. So Caitlin stans this was not a pointed attack it's just how it worked out! Don't @ me.


End file.
